


Unification

by thesecretdoor



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, M/M, Saxophones, Suits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 18:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15935786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecretdoor/pseuds/thesecretdoor
Summary: Dear recipient - I'm so sorry that this is all I have for you. I have big angsty plans for this story but I didn't manage to get very far into things. I hope you'll be happy enough with this for now and I promise I will be working on this continuously to get the rest of your fic to you!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Akani232](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akani232/gifts).



> Dear recipient - I'm so sorry that this is all I have for you. I have big angsty plans for this story but I didn't manage to get very far into things. I hope you'll be happy enough with this for now and I promise I will be working on this continuously to get the rest of your fic to you!

It’s far too stuffy in Yuto’s office. He hates it, he hates that he even has an office. Hates that he’s expected to sit in it for ten hours a day in his stiff cotton suit that even the air conditioning can’t reach him through. 

He’d walk out if he could, just get up and leave, but he’s surrounded by a room full of important business people, the most important of whom, his father, sits on the chair closest to the door. Instead he sighs and twists a little to un-stick his trouser legs from his skin and reaches up to loosen his tie.

He gets odd looks from the few people closest to him, and then a stony glare from the opposite end of the room and with an eye-roll he sits up a little straighter, but he just can’t get comfortable enough to pay attention.

“Were you paying attention?” his father snaps as soon as they’re alone.

“Mostly.” Yuto responds with another roll of his eyes. “It’s fine, I’ll look over the minutes” and he fans himself with the documents in question but it doesn’t help any. He tosses the paperwork down onto his desk and loosens his tie a little further as he moves to the window to open it.

There’s a noise that catches his attention almost immediately. It’s just faint, but it’s unmistakably music, something jazzy. He strains to hear it, enough that he doesn’t hear his father’s voice at all until it’s right beside him. “Yuto!” his father shouts.

“It’s lunchtime now right?” Yuto asks, his eyes still scanning the pavement six storeys below him, and without waiting for an answer he shoves past his father and out of the office, shrugging his suit jacket as he goes.

His tie is next, it’s hanging lose around his shoulders, the top three buttons of his shirt unfastened before he’s even reached the front entrance of the building, and then he’s out in the blazing summer heat. 

The music is louder outside, but it still takes almost ten minutes of getting turned around on himself for Yuto to find it’s source. And then he stops dead. Breath. Taken. 

The young man in front of him – saxophone strapped about his neck, lips pursed over the mouthpiece – is nothing short of beautiful. He has Yuto’s heart stopping and starting so fast it might be drumming along to the erratic jazzy notes still issuing from the instrument’s shiny gunmetal bell.

It’s player looks at Yuto, right into his eyes and Yuto swallows hard before the eye contact is broken, the youth clenching his eyes closed as he belts out a particularly high note.

“Wow.” Yuto says, when the song ends, and then he shuffles his jacket into the crook of his elbow to clap.

“Thanks.” The young man says with a smile, but before Yuto can say much more the backing track transitions and the man starts playing once again.

Yuto loses count of how many songs he’s listened through as he stands, transfixed. A few more patrons pass by, some stopping a while, others tossing a few coins into the open case at the man’s feet as they pass. And then Yuto’s phone buzzes in his pocket and as he pulls it out he’s shocked at the time displayed on his screen.

More worrying than the time is the name flashing across the screen. ‘Dad office’. He’s late from lunch and he hasn’t even had anything to eat yet. He’d risk it, but he knows there’s another meeting right after lunch, all he ever seems to do is sit in meetings.

With a sigh he shoves his phone back into his pocket unanswered and reaches into the other pocket instead, pulling out his wallet this time. He pulls out a note and places it into the case without even looking, his eyes still glued on the beautiful man in front of him. 

The gesture earns him an appreciative nod from the saxophonist as he continues to play, and Yuto finally turns to walk away, a smile on his face for the first time all day.

The next day he has another yet another meeting scheduled before lunch, another host of balding men in stiff suits file into his office, taking seats around the conference table. ‘Okamoto merger’ the paperwork titles the meeting. Yuto hasn’t read through it, doesn’t even _really_ know how he fits into this proposed plan but he nods along when he’s congratulated on being given the role of head of something or other.

A few words catch his interest as he sits, trying to force himself to listen to the endless, monotonous tirade of plans and proposals, ‘music’, ‘concert’, ‘instruments’.

There’s only one instrument that comes to mind when he hears the word, not even his own, the drums that he’s been playing since he was fourteen years old. It’s a saxophone, a sleek tenor in a dark shade of gray, nimble fingers dancing over the gold coated keys.

When lunchtime rolls around he follows his ears to the same stretch of street again. There’s recognition in the eyes of saxophonist as he approaches and Yuto smiles, clapping as the song finishes and transitions into the next. It’s not quite as up-tempo today, more mellow and classy, and Yuto sways a little to the music as he listens for a few songs. Eventually though he pulls himself away, leaving only reluctantly to actually go and eat some lunch, he learned the hard way that six hours straight of meetings goes by a lot quicker when he isn’t starved as well as distracted and bored.

On the third day, Yuto plans ahead, he gets up extra early to swing by the convenience store before work for his bento and when lunchtime finally rolls around he finds himself a nice low wall to sit on, out of the way but still in viewing and listening distance of the saxophone player.

Day four is Saturday, Yuto hates that he has to work Saturdays but it’s only a half day and that alone has Yuto practically skipping along the street to the jazzy music come lunchtime.

“Do you ever take a break?” Yuto asks after a few songs. He’s still a little giddy at finding the guy here on a Saturday – when he doesn’t have to go back to that stuffy old office – it makes him feel a little reckless.

“Is it that annoying?” The handsome young man asks but it’s with a smile, the fact that he’s been here every day for the last four must be clue enough that Yuto isn’t irritated by his playing.

“I’ve been hoping for a chance to ask you if you want to go get a drink with me.” Yuto says boldly.

“A drink?” the musician asks with one eyebrow raised.

“Tea? Coffee?” Yuto offers. “Personally I could do with a nice, cold beer, this weather must be as tortuous for you out here as it is for me up there.” he continues, his head nodding back towards his dad’s company’s building. 

The young man gives him a contemplative look but eventually he nods, half a smile on his lips. “A beer sounds pretty good.”


	2. Chapter 2

Yamada his name is. Yamada Ryosuke. It rolls off the tongue in the kind of way that makes Yuto want to repeat it over and over, or that could be because, two pints in, he’s already a little tipsy, maybe it’s because he’s in love. 

He’s in love in a way he’s never been before. It’s impulsive, head-over-heels, love at first sight kind of love. Yamada is sweet and funny, and cool, incredibly cool and he’s into all of the things Yuto is into, and he might even be into Yuto, Yuto thinks. He’s flirtatious in the kind of way that could just be friendly, though Yuto’s third pint says it’s more than that. The thought makes him laugh and he’s lucky that Yamada had just said something funny and he raises his glass again.

“You should come over to my place some time and jam with me.” Yuto suggests only half jokingly, a mix of intoxication and that giddy recklessness, when the subject comes back around to jazz. They’ve covered everything from what instruments they play and what levels, their favourite styles, their most cliché phases and the conversation is flowing well enough, he feels like they’re getting on well enough, that Yuto feels both brave and stupid enough to say it. “You sound amazing...I’d really love to try playing with you...”

“What, at your house?” Yamada gasps, and Yuto thinks for a moment that Yamada is appalled that he’d be as forward as to invite him over to his house when they’ve only just met but Yamada just continues. “A jam session with drums and a saxophone...at your house? Do you hate your neighbours?”

Yuto’s laugh sounds more relieved than he’d like it to as he waves his hand in dismissal. “It’s fine, my drum room has sound proofing.”

Now Yamada’s face really does look shocked. “You have a room, just for your drums? Who even are you?”

“So you want to?” Yuto asks, hoping the blush isn’t obvious on his cheeks.

It comes out who he is, eventually, because he gave his name but Nakajima is hardly uncommon, more uncommon than Yamada for sure but not uncommon. But it comes out eventually, and Yamada looks impressed as he turns Yuto’s business card over in his hands. “Corporate events management...that sounds real flashy.”

“It’s not” Yuto objects. “It’s head-batteringly boring. I wanted to be a musician too but my dad insisted there’s no career in it. You have it way cooler.”

Yamada actually snorts into his glass. “I’m not a musician. Your dad is right, music isn’t a career, that’s just a little side thing to try and start some savings...”

“So what do you do then?” Yuto asks.

“I cook.” Yamada admits.

“You’re a chef?” Yuto asks in astonishment and Yamada laughs.

“No. I’m a cook. I couldn’t afford culinary school. My parents had a little restaurant when we were kids though, I learnt to cook curry before I could ride a bike.” Yamada shrugs dismissively, takes another sip of his beer. “I’ve always liked cooking anyway, besides, useful skill and all.”

Yuto looks over him again, seeing him in something of a new light. He’s sweet and funny and cool, and incredibly talented _and_ he can cook, Yuto is impressed. “I can’t cook at all.” Yuto admits. 

Yamada laughs. “At all?”

“If it came down to it, I could probably figure out the rice cooker” he jokes.

Yamada laughs again, feigning shock for a moment before his expression slips into something cheekier as he pulls out Yuto’s business card once again. “I guess an ‘Events Project Manager’ for ‘Nakajima Conference Solutions’ doesn’t need to cook, you probably have your own butler right?” Yuto shakes his head but he laughs too. “Momma’s boy then?” Yamada tries with a knowing smile. “She do your washing and ironing too?”

“Sadly my mum hasn’t cooked a meal for me since I was too young to remember it.” Yuto says in his defence and Yamada’s face sobers instantly. “She left.” Yuto clarifies because he knows how it might sound. “Her and my brother. My dad doesn’t talk about it...and he certainly doesn’t cook. A lot of the time he would work late and I’d just order take out” he shrugs, and then laughs because the pitying expression on Yamada’s face makes him feel uncomfortable. “Hey, it’s not like I had it bad...it’s not like I was left to starve or anything, most kids would kill to be left home alone with take out menus and a credit card.”

Yamada’s face softens but there’s still something quiet about it. “Still, it’s kind of sad that you’ve never had a home cooked meal.”

Maybe it’s the gentleness in Yamada’s eyes, or maybe it’s the fact that Yuto’s third beer is now empty. “You could cook for me sometime.”

“Isn’t home-cooking like at least date three?” Yamada says and there’s something of that cheekiness about him again amidst the tenderness.

“Then lets call this date one” Yuto suggests, swallowing heavily before he continues “And our jam session can be date two...” 

Yamada opens his mouth to respond, but before the words come out his phone starts to ring in his pocket and he excuses himself to answer it. When he returns just a moment later he grimaces apologetically. “Sorry, I lost track of time...there’s a thing I have to...I have to go.”

Yuto nods, tries not to worry too much about what plans Yamada might have on a Saturday evening. He doesn’t want the night to end so abruptly though, so he pulls a pen from the pocket of his jacket, slumped somewhere on the seat beside him, and scribbles down his phone number. “I mean it, about jamming. If you want to, then mail me or something...”


	3. Chapter 3

Yamada’s mail comes through barely a few hours later and Yuto is pleased he’s alone his room because it’s contents have him making a small squeak of excitement.

‘I wanted to get it in writing in case you’re too hungover to remember tomorrow. How about that jam session? I’m free next Saturday afternoon.’

Yuto would happily do it sooner, the next day in fact, but as they hash out the details he learns that Yamada works the full day on a Sunday, twelve hours that make it difficult to plan anything around. He works evening until late Monday through Friday too so his only real day off is Saturday. 

It’s a long week, work is getting stressful, the conference Yuto’s team have been organising is only a few weeks away and the number of attendees is going up everyday. Enough that even the largest conference room at the Hotel they’d book doesn’t have the capacity for the event. At such short notice and with everything from multi-media hire and catering being reliant on location, Yuto feels like the whole event is hanging in the balance as he desperately tries to secure a venue.

On top of that, talks are progressing quickly with regard to this ‘Okamoto merger’ idea. Yuto has been put at the helm of the proposal despite having zero experience with company expansion. He has to start thinking about presentations, he has to figure out what kind of a presentation he’s even supposed to be giving, what information he’s going to need for it and who he he needs to involve to find it out. If he’s honest with himself he doesn’t have any idea at all how to go about it, he doesn’t even know anything about this Okamoto company, he feels like a fish out of water.

The stress isn’t helped by the fact he hasn’t seen Yamada all week either. He’s made his way to the usual stretch of street every single day but not once has there been any smooth jazz music to soothe his soul. By Wednesday it’s starting to concern him, and as much as he doesn’t want to appear over-bearing, he’s a little worried that it’s the last he’ll see of the beautiful musician.

He tosses the documents he’s meant to be reading through aside and picks his phone up instead. He keeps it as casual as he can, throws in a little flirty, as he mails to say he’s missed hearing Yamada play this week.

To his relief Yamada’s reply says he thinks it’s sweet that Yuto has been looking out for him. It contains an apology too, and for one heart-stopping moment Yuto thinks he’s about to cancel their date, but it’s only to say he won’t be out busking for the rest of the week either. He’ll be there Saturday though, Yamada assures him, and Yuto suggests they meet there once he’s finished work.

They keep mailing back and forth for the rest of the week, and it makes the days go by a little faster, but it also has Yuto more desperate than ever to see him come Saturday. His skin is buzzing with excitement as he practically skips along the street to that sweet music already infiltrating his ears.

And there Yamada is, breath-taking as ever in ripped black jeans and a loose white T-shirt, his chestnut hair damp at the edges in the mid-summer heat. He looks up as Yuto approaches, gives him a small nod as he continues playing for the rest of the song. And then he gives Yuto the most dazzling smile as he bends down to switch off his backing track.

“Shall we go?” Yamada asks, that smile in his voice too and Yuto can’t find his, just nods and swallows heavily as Yamada reaches up to remove the saxophone from around his neck, a flash of pale skin showing above his jeans as his shirt lifts.

Yamada catches him looking and Yuto quickly averts his eyes but Yamada’s eyebrows just raise a little. 

Yuto clears his throat, a blush rising on his cheeks. “I’ll call a taxi.” he says. “It’s not far, but with the heat…it won’t be a fun walk” with the heat and the being desperate to be alone with Yamada.

“Wow.” Yamada says, when they finally arrive and Yuto leads him through the door into the genkan. “Your genkan is bigger than my house.”

Yuto laughs as he kicks off his shoes and hands Yamada a pair of guest slippers. Yamada takes them and slips them on, that same impressed look on his face. It gives Yuto a strange feeling in his stomach, seeing Yamada there, all cool and beautiful, like something from another world, wearing his house’s guest slippers. It’s a strange feeling, but a strangely exciting one.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Yuto asks, trying to inject some normalcy into the situation and he leads the way along the hall to the kitchen. He opens the refrigerator, hoping there’s something consumable in there. “We have juice, tea...beer.”

“Beer would be nice.” Yamada answers and Yuto opens the door a little wider to show him the selection, thankfully his father must have ordered shopping recently. “Wow, I think your _refrigerator_ is bigger than my house.” Yamada says as he points to a bottle of Asahi Super Dry.

Yuto hands Yamada the bottle, and then moves to the drawer for the bottle opener. When he turns again, finding Yamada leaning casually against the kitchen island he gets another hit of that strange feeling bubbling in his stomach.

He looks so out of place in the mundane, familiar kitchen that Yuto passes through every day.

“What’s that look for?” Yamada asks, and Yuto realises he’s just staring at him, but there’s something almost coy in Yamada’s voice, like he knows exactly what that look is about. Yuto clears his throat and walks over to open Yamada’s beer before handing it back to him.

“You look really good.” Yuto says, cringes a little as he does because he knows it sounds so corny. Yamada looks pleased though.

“You look good too.” Yamada says, his voice a little quieter, an almost husky quality to it. “I never imagined anyone could look quite so good in a business suit.” 

Yuto looks down and it’s like he’s just realising he’s still in his suit. “I should go change.” he says but as he takes a step back, Yamada reaches out for his wrist, stopping him, and then he places his bottle on the counter behind him and steps forward slowly.

He leans in, stands up on his tiptoes just a little, Yuto suspects, his eyes flicking the whole time between Yuto’s eyes and his lips as the distance closes.

Yuto bites back a groan as their lips touch, dragging together slowly. The next groan he can’t quite hold back as Yamada’s lips part, his tongue swiping softly over Yuto’s lips and heat floods through him as he parts them to let it slip inside.

He’s not quite sure when his hands moved to Yamada’s hips, but as Yamada kisses him harder, a pleased hum sounding low in his throat as Yuto’s tongue meets his, Yuto finds himself squeezing them harder, urging him back into the kitchen island behind him.

There’s another humming sound from Yamada as he tugs Yuto back with him, pulling him closer until they’re practically pressed together and then he pulls away from their kiss just enough to murmur against Yuto’s lips. “Is that a drumstick in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”


	4. Chapter 4

‘When can I see you again?’ Yuto mails, barely an hour after Yamada has left. He doesn’t want to appear clingy, and yet he has that anxious feeling in his chest again because once again Yamada got a phone call and excused himself, saying he lost track of time. He doesn’t want to appear clingy, but once again he finds himself worried about where Yamada needs to go on a Saturday evening. He’d been dying to ask as Yamada was packing away his saxophone but he was too afraid of the answer.

‘Next Saturday?’ Yamada mails back almost immediately and that at least has Yuto’s fears easing a little, whatever he’s doing, he’s not too busy for Yuto. And then before Yuto even has chance to reply, another mail comes through ‘I won’t be able to busk this week either so I won’t have chance to meet you until Saturday’

‘Saturday it is then’, Yuto replies, finishing the message with a little smiling face emoji that doesn’t reflect his actual expression at all. He’s not too busy for Yuto, but he’s too busy to busk the coming week. It’s not another job, he’d asked about jobs between jamming but no, there’s just the restaurant and then busking whenever he has time.

A smile does creep onto Yuto’s face eventually though, as he rolls over on his bed, his phone clutched to his chest and his mind flitting back over the day, over how much he’d fun he’d had jamming with Yamada. It makes his chest feel warm as he reminisces over how easy it was, how natural it felt hanging out with him, the flirtatious glances. And then there was that kiss. 

The warmth in his chest travels south as he thinks about it, lets his mind wander over where it might have gone if he hadn’t chickened out and stopped it. Yamada certainly hadn’t seemed to mind, Yuto would even swear there was a little excitement in Yamada’s eyes too. His hand sneaks into his jeans as he wonders if Yamada was already hard too, how Yamada would have reacted if he’d thrust his hips a little to find out. If Yamada would have thrust back even harder.

He groans as his hand wraps around himself. He thinks Yamada would have done, there’s something fiery about him, a kind of confidence that excites Yuto, makes him think Yamada isn’t the type to just lay down and take it like the few girls Yuto tried it with in University were. He wonders if next Saturday he might be brave enough to find out.

His hopes that he will find out are only fuelled when mid-week Yamada mails again to say he won’t have to leave so early next Saturday. So, if Yuto wants, they could have another jam session and he could bring over the ingredients for his speciality – vegetable curry with a hint of apple and honey. It’s almost criminal after all, Yamada insists, that Yuto has such an amazing kitchen and it never gets put to use.

Yuto does want it, very much. He’s looking forward to it enough that even the stress of work doesn’t get to him. Even the summer heat in his stuffy old office doesn’t get to him when he thinks of Saturday, of drinking a nice cold beer with Yamada’s home-cooked curry.

His excitement only intensifies come Saturday when he walks along the street after work to meet Yamada and finds a grocery bag, all but overflowing with various vegetables, on the pavement beside him.

“Did you invite the rest of Japan or something?” Yuto jokes as he lifts the heavy grocery bag, shoving it into the back of the taxi and climbing in after.

“No.” Yamada tells him, and Yuto thinks there might be a slight blush on his cheeks. “You have a big freezer right? I thought we could freeze the leftovers...then you can have a home-cooked meal whenever you want.”

Yuto doesn’t know quite what to say to that, the thoughtfulness catches him off guard and all he manages is an awkward “That sounds really nice.”

Yamada breaks the tension with a smile “I only brought rice for tonight though, so you’ll have to figure out that rice cooker after all.”

“Is that my homework?” Yuto asks with a laugh. 

He’s done a little homework since last time too, music homework. He looked up a few of the artists that Yamada recommended, learned a few new beats and when they make their way up to Yuto’s drum room, things flow even easier than they had the last time. As they switch things up, Yamada adapting effortlessly to Yuto’s rhythm, it feels like they’ve been playing together forever. Yuto would even go as far as saying, maybe not out loud, that it’s like they were meant to play together. Maybe, like they were meant for each other.

But barely a few hours into their jam session a noise breaks the flow, a familiar ringing. It’s the sound of Yamada’s phone and there’s already a feeling of dread forming in the pit of Yuto’s stomach. He’s coming to hate that noise. 

Yamada gives him a sheepish look as he pulls out the offending object and looks at the screen. “I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.”

Yuto curses the sound-proof room as the door closes behind Yamada’s concerned ‘What’s wrong?’, and he doesn’t hear another word.

It takes a few minutes for Yamada to return and when he does there’s an uneasy look on his face. “Is everything OK?” Yuto asks and Yamada nods but he sighs too.

“Something came up, I need to go.” Yuto gets up, his half protest dying on his lips as Yamada gives him a nervous smile. “We could...if you still want our curry date, if you wouldn’t mind, that is...you could come with me?”

“Come with you?” Yuto repeats in surprise, and that nervousness at not knowing where Yamada keeps running off to turns to excitement.

“To my place.” Yamada clarifies. “I could cook for you at my place?”


	5. Chapter 5

“Well” Yamada says, something slightly anxious in his voice, as they pause at the gates. “That’s home.” The building in front of them is far bigger than Yuto’s house and he opens his mouth to say as much but Yamada laughs and leans in close as he points. “The window three up and seven from the right. That’s home.”

It was an exaggeration, the joke Yamada had made that time about Yuto’s fridge, but it wasn’t by much. As Yuto steps through the tiny genkan and looks around the room that seems to serve as living room, kitchen and dining room, he observes that it actually isn’t a great deal bigger than his home’s entry hall.

“It’s cosy.” Yuto says as they step inside, Yuto bending slightly because the door frames are no way near as high as he’s used to.

“It’s a shithole.” Yamada says with eyeroll but there’s a small smile on his lips. “It’s home though.” And as he leads the way into the main room, two young girls run through from the room on the left and all but throw themselves at Yamada.

Yuto’s blood freezes a little in his veins as he watches Yamada scoop the smaller of the children into his arms and kiss her cheek. His eyes are drawn to her nose, to the way the bridge of it curves in that same delicate way that Yamada’s does.

A woman appears a moment later, a third child, still a toddler, held to her side with one hand as she fumbles to clip a pocket watch to her pocket with the other. “Ryosuke.” she says in relief as she shuffles the child into Yamada’s empty arm and brushes down her uniform pants, only then does she seem to notice Yuto and she pauses in grabbing her bag to look at him.

“Ah.” Yamada says, his attention raising from the baby pulling at his hair. “Neechan, this is Nakajima Yuto, the friend I told you about.”

The woman, Yamada’s sister, Yuto realises with a breath of relief, looks him up and down just once and gives a slight bow in greeting, when she stands back up though the look she gives Yamada is full of meaning.

Yuto watches as Yamada’s eyes widen pointedly in answer to some unspoken question and his sister, Chihiro she introduces herself as, raises an eyebrow in response, it’s a look that says ‘We’ll talk about this later’.

‘She’s overprotective’ is the only explanation Yamada gives. It’s once Chihiro has left for work, night shift on the geriatric ward, and Yamada is already piling chopped vegetables into a boiling pan. 

“What?” Yamada asks, and Yuto suddenly realises that he’s just staring again.

The sight before him is nothing short of charming. Yamada in a red apron, his bangs tied up in the traditional palm tree style with the help of his nieces, cooking. “I’ve been worried.” Yuto tells him and he can’t fight the smile out of his voice. “About what you’re always so busy with on a Saturday evening. I thought maybe you had another guy, or were like a secret government agent or something.”

Yamada actually laughs a little “Nothing so glamorous, I’m afraid.” 

“Why didn’t you just tell me last time that you had to leave to look after your nieces?” Yuto asks, genuinely confused.

There’s that laugh again but there’s something more pensive about Yamada’s expression this time and he turns back to the pan as he answers. “Why didn’t I tell the hot-shot businessman with the magnificent house that I live in a dump with my sister and work shitty hours to accomodate babysitting her kids while she works two jobs and her husband is on the road, and between us, we barely manage to keep the electricity running? Yeah, I’m sure you’d have been real impressed.”

Yuto takes another look around, notices for the first time the chipped wood of the door frames, the threadbare carpets, the way none of the crockery matches. He notices too, for the first time how tired Yamada’s face looks when he’s not forcing it into a smile and it makes his chest hurt as it sinks in, why Yamada works strange hours, why he’s rarely free even when he’s not working. Why he chooses to spend the little time he is free, standing in the blazing heat for hours playing the saxophone for loose change. “I am impressed.” Yuto tells him seriously, he’s so impressed he feels almost ashamed of himself for ever thinking he had it rough. 

“Good.” Yamada says, there’s a dismissiveness to it though, like he doesn’t really believe Yuto. “I already brought you here, I can’t exactly hide it now.” before Yuto has chance to say anything else Yamada changes the topic. “You still feel up to the challenge of the rice cooker?”

It turns out Yuto is pretty good with a rice cooker, under Yamada’s careful supervision at least, and less than half an hour later Yamada is ladling thick, rich curry over fluffy white rice, four plates of it, and some boiled vegetables reserved for the youngest.

Yuto’s first taste of home-cooking warms his heart as much as his stomach, and the fact that he’s surrounded by children laughing, by Yamada softly scolding them to sit down and eat politely, doesn’t help one bit.

It helps even less once they’re done and Yamada ushers them into the bathroom to brush their teeth and change for bed. By the time they’re tucked up into one futon, Yuto straining his ears by the thin sliding door to the bedroom to hear Yamada’s soft voice as he reads them a bedtime story, the warmth in his chest is burning so hard there are tears in his eyes. He feels breathless.

He feels even more breathless when Yamada returns to the main room, that same soft tone as he apologises for the mess and clears away the plates and bowls while the sink fills with hot water.

“Can I help?” Yuto asks, clearing the thickness from his throat as Yamada dons a pair of yellow rubber gloves.

Yamada nods and points to the dish towel hanging over a cupboard door handle. “You could dry?”

“So was that the Yamada family special recipe?” Yuto asks as he takes the first sudsy plate Yamada hands him and wipes it dry.

“It sure is.” Yamada answers with a smile. “With a few of my own embellishments.”

“Your parents don’t mind you using their recipes?” Yuto asks.

“They don’t need them any more. The restaurant went out of business about six years ago” Yamada says with a shrug but Yuto senses the lamentation in it. 

“Do you have plans to re-open it? Or maybe start your own restaurant?” he asks.

Yamada shakes his head “Nah. I saw first hand how stressful it is, how hard it is to make ends meet sometimes too...how much worse it is when you have employees depending on you and not enough money to go around...”

“What are your plans then? Long term?” he can’t help but ask.

“I don’t have any.” Yamada says with another shrug. “Life is too unpredictable for long term plans. I’m happy enough with how things are though. What about you? You seem pretty set up for the future at your dad’s company.”

It’s Yuto’s turn to shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m cut out for it.” 

Yamada’s hand pauses in passing Yuto a pan. “But your business card has the word manager on it. You have your own office...those aren’t the kind of things you get when you’re not cut out for it.”

“Those are the kind of things you get when your dad owns the company.” He shrugs. “I went to business school, I somehow passed...I could probably do it if I wanted I just don’t think I want it enough.”

“What is it that you want instead?” Yamada asks bemused. 

“I don’t know.” is his knee-jerk response after years of asking himself the same question. There’s music, because he loves it, but he keeps hearing there’s no career in it. Beside that he’s never found anything else he felt so intensely about, not until tonight. He can’t help smiling as he looks at Yamada beside him “I think I want this.”

“This?” Yamada asks in confusion.

“A family.” Yuto answers. “I never had this, eating meals as a family, washing dishes with the satisfaction of having cooked something,”

“You cooked rice.” Yamada berates him but it’s with a smile. “You want this?” he continues dubiously. “Cooking for a small army and a kitchen barely big enough for two?”

“Close quarters have their benefits.” Yuto says and just turning to face Yamada has the other man trapped between him and the refrigerator. “I want _this_.” he says with emphasis and he feels the heat of that want travelling through him.

Yamada gets it. “You want fountain bangs and washing up gloves?” He asks.

Yuto nods. “I want it.” and then more breathily as he presses closer “I want you so bad.”

“Yuto.” Yamada breathes as Yuto leans in, peppering his neck with kisses as he presses Yamada back into the refrigerator. The sound of his name in that voice spurs Yuto on, his lips moving sloppily over his skin as he discards the dish towel somewhere off to the side in favour of clutching Yamada’s hips.

“Ryosuke.” Yuto tries, the name making him shudder and Yamada gasps, his hips jerking a little in Yuto’s hold and Yuto is sure he feels arousal there. He drags his lips up to Yamada’s, kissing him hard as his hand moves, sliding between them to trace the solid flesh beneath Yamada’s jeans.

Yamada’s gasp turns to a groan half way through as Yuto presses down a little harder, traces it again and then Yamada is shaking his head, turning away from the kiss. “Yuto.” he whines and one rubber clad hand halts Yuto’s. “The kids.”

“What about them.”

“They’ll hear.” Yamada says, even more of a whine in his voice as Yuto nips gently at his jawline.

Yuto groans as he feels Yamada’s erection twitching against his immobile hand. “Are you that loud?” he jests, smiling against Yamada’s skin.

Yamada chuckles but there’s still a bit of a whine in his voice. “Given the right stimulation.”

Yuto hums in interest “Then maybe we need to pay a visit to my sound-proof room next time”

Yamada’s face is flushed as he urges Yuto back, his eyes are still alight with excitement though and he gives Yuto a quick glance up and down before sucking his lower lip between his teeth. “Let’s see just how sound-proof it is.”


	6. Chapter 6

It was just a joke, Yuto thinks it was at least. And yet he really, really hopes it wasn’t.

They didn’t say any more about it, even as Yamada kissed him goodnight, some time after midnight when Yuto finally conceded that it was time he was getting home. Yamada did mail the next day to ask if he wanted to jam next week though. Jamming – which would occur in the sound-proof room.

He spends longer than he should over the next week, wandering in and out of it, picturing what they could do where. Not much on a drum stool, not much more on the office chair in the corner of the room either. He briefly considered moving the loveseat from his bedroom into it, considered it enough that he went up to his room instead and tried laying on it to see how much more that would allow for and then he scolded himself internally because that would look pretty shady, a sofa randomly appearing in the room where there wasn’t one last week. If he was going to be that obvious he might as well just call Yamada up and tell him how desperate he is for them to fuck.

When Saturday finally rolls around he gets the feeling he’s not the only one though. Instead of the usual loose T-shirt, Yamada is wearing a tight fitting tank top beneath a thin shirt and the rips in his jeans are even more revealing than before. Yuto wonders briefly if it’s the same pair cut up a little higher, or if Yamada just has a whole selection of tantalisingly revealing black jeans. Either way, Yuto isn’t complaining. Or he wouldn’t be, if not for the fact that there’s enough of a crowd gathered on the street in front of Yamada that he sticks around another song or two after Yuto shows up. 

That in itself wouldn’t bother Yuto, but the brief flashes of underwear he keeps glimpsing through the highest rip, have Yuto trying desperately to drag his mind out of the gutter. Try as he might though, he can’t stop himself from fantasising, and the way Yamada’s lips are pursed tightly around the mouthpiece of his saxophone, doesn’t help at all.

When Yamada finally stops playing and starts packing away, Yuto dials for a taxi with shaking fingers. The rest of him is shaking by the time Yamada is done and walking over to him, shaking in anticipation as he recognises desire in Yamada’s eyes.

“Hey.” Yamada says, his voice low, a kind of sultry tone to it and it takes almost everything within Yuto not to kiss him senseless right there on the street.

It takes everything else within him not to do it in the back of the taxi as Yamada sits with his legs parted just slightly, the almost indecent holes in his jeans baring large patches of soft, pale skin that Yuto’s fingers itch to reach out and caress.

He almost groans in relief when the taxi finally arrives. He hands the taxi driver a few notes, more than enough to cover the fare, and then he’s leading Yamada up the driveway to fumble his keys into the lock. Yamada helps, reaching out to steady his hand only it doesn’t help one bit because the touch sends tingles right the way up his arm.

But then the door is open and Yamada is using the hold on his hand to drag him through it and the sound it makes as it closes is like music to his ears. It’s almost as beautiful as Yamada’s voice, quiet and almost husky as he leans in, his whole body pressing closer than necessary in the oversized genkan.

“Are we expecting your dad home any time soon?” Yamada murmurs, his breath tickling the shell of Yuto’s ear.

He shakes his head. Clears his throat when he remembers his voice. “No, he takes the senior execs out for dinner on Saturdays.” 

“Good.” Yamada mumbles, his lips nipping lightly at the lobe of Yuto’s ear before skimming down and along his jaw and up to his lips, barely brushing together, a tease of a kiss. “So when do I get to see your bedroom?”

He’s briefly amused at himself for worrying so much about the stupid drum room as he takes Yamada’s hand and leads him straight past it, up another flight of stairs to his bedroom. It’s the first time he’s brought anyone in here, and for just a moment he panics a little at what Yamada will think of it, but as the other reaches behind him to push the door closed his eyes are fixed only on Yuto.

A slight bob of his Adam’s apple is the only sign of Yamada’s nerves as he closes the distance between them again and presses a firm kiss against Yuto’s lips before nudging him back towards the bed.

Yuto drops to sit on the edge of it as Yamada peels off the chequered shirt he’s wearing and tosses it over the back of the desk chair. Yuto’s tongue sweeps out along his lip as he takes in the sight of the firm muscle of Yamada’s shoulders, the definition of his biceps. Yamada smiles, the appraisal probably clear enough on Yuto’s face and he takes a step forward, reaching out for Yuto’s tie.

He’d forgotten he was still half wearing his suit, the jacket he’d awkwardly discarded sometime during the taxi ride but the tie he’d only loosened enough to open the top two buttons. Yamada loosens it further, sliding the loose end from the knot and with his eyes fixed almost devilishly on Yuto’s he gives it a firm tug to pull it free from his collar.

With his eyes still on Yuto he takes a step back, reaching out to discard Yuto’s tie on top of his own shirt and then he moves closer again, climbing onto the bed to straddle Yuto’s lap as his fingers move to the buttons of Yuto’s shirt.

Yuto watches them as they work their way down, unfastening each one tortuously slowly and then his eyes are distracted once again by the bare patches of Yamada’s thigh. He reaches for the highest rip – the one through which he can still glimpse Yamada’s boxers. He watches his fingers trace the frayed edge of the denim and then he looks up to watch Yamada suck his bottom lips between his teeth as his fingers sneak beneath it.

Yamada hums encouragingly, his hands moving to Yuto’s shoulders for leverage as he leans up a little, his hips pushed out just enough for Yuto’s hand to slide further up inside the rip, and then they both gasp a little as his fingers find a solid bulge in Yamada’s boxers.

The expression on Yamada’s face as Yuto’s fingers trace the outline of his excitement has Yuto groaning and then Yamada’s lips quirk just a little into a smile as he redistributes his weight, leaning forward to push Yuto down onto his back.

For a moment Yuto just looks at him, his breath knocked out of him at the sheer beauty of his face, at how his bangs fall forward, framing his seductive eyes just perfectly, and then their eye contact is broken as Yamada leans down to kiss his way along Yuto’s jaw to his neck. 

Yuto sucks in a heavy breath as Yamada moves further down, warm lips ghosting over his collarbone to his chest. When Yamada’s knees shuffle down, Yuto’s hand slips out from the rip in his jeans so he places it instead on Yamada’s waist, toying with the hem of his tank top as it rides up.

He groans softly when Yamada looks up at him, checking maybe, as his hand moves down, opening the buckle of Yuto’s belt. He keeps looking up even as his lips drift down to Yuto’s sternum, his hand now on Yuto’s fly, peeling the zipper down slowly.

Yuto groans a little louder in encouragement, louder still when he peels Yamada’s tank top up and over his head and his hands are free to roam the toned expanse of Yamada’s back.

The next time Yamada shuffles down, he slides seamlessly from the bed to the floor, his hands reaching up for Yuto’s waistband, and when Yuto lifts his hips obediently, Yamada slips off his trousers and boxers in one go.

For the slightest moment Yuto feels nervous, embarrassed maybe, but then Yamada is humming in approval against Yuto’s knee as his lips work their way back up. When they reach his thigh Yamada pauses to look up at him again, something like hesitation in his eyes as his low voice rumbles “Can I..?”

“Please.” Yuto breathes, only to have that breath knocked back out of him as Yamada’s lips find the base of his cock, a damp trail left in their wake as they kiss up the length of it to finally close around the head.

Yuto jerks as he’s surrounded by heat, Yamada’s tongue caressing the head as a hand wraps around the base, stroking up as Yamada’s mouth moves down and Yuto can’t tear his eyes away. It’s the most erotic thing he’s ever seen. Yamada’s eyes, burning with desire, staring up at him. His lips taut around Yuto’s length and Yuto knows he’ll never be able to watch Yamada play saxophone again without thinking of this.

It’s too much, too good. It’s barely been minutes but already Yuto feels the familiar stirrings inside him. “I won’t last long” he admits with a whine. Yamada groans, Yuto feels it reverberate along his cock and that doesn’t help at all, and Yamada doesn’t stop. “I’m close.” he gasps just moments later and Yamada just keeps going, his pace steady, tongue still flicking mercilessly across his head on each upstroke. He tries to hold back, to hold on, but already the pressure is too much, his voice shakes as much as his hand as it reaches out for Yamada’s hair and he moans. “Ryosuke, I’m close.”

There’s another low groan in Yamada’s throat as his hand just squeezes harder, his tongue working faster and Yuto can’t even gasp out a warning this time, his fingers tighten in Yamada’s hair and he can’t tell if he’s pushing or pulling or just holding on as everything else inside of him lets go.


	7. Chapter 7

He can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can’t even tell which way is up as Yamada strokes him slowly through the aftershocks. Even as Yamada climbs back onto the bed beside him, he still feels lost. There’s a soft hum, and Yamada’s soft lips ghosting over his cheek, making him shudder. 

“Your mouth is incredible.” Yuto says almost sluggishly and he feels said mouth spread into a smile against his flushed skin.

“I have strong lips and a tactile tongue...playing the saxophone has it’s perks.” Yamada murmurs and then he lifts his head to look pointedly at Yuto. “I’ve seen you looking at my mouth while I play, I know what you’re thinking.”

Yuto can’t stop his own lips spreading into an embarrassed smile. “Guilty.” he admits.

Yamada’s expression sobers a little, something of that earlier hesitation again. “You know what else playing saxophone helps with?” and he pauses until Yuto hums questioningly. “Finger dexterity.” His eyes flash ascertainingly to Yuto’s eyes before they fall on his own fingers, stepping their way down Yuto’s chest.

He wondered how it would work, how they would broach the subject. He figured it would be this way round though, because Yamada is clearly the more dominant of them, the more confident, and he has to be the more experienced. He’d considered it, in detail, and he certainly didn’t disapprove of the idea, only now they’re here there’s that hint of anxiousness creeping back in.

He’s been quiet long enough that Yamada’s cheeks flush a little, his fingers lifting away from Yuto’s skin. “If you’re too tired...” he says tactfully. “Or if you don’t...”

“I do.” Yuto cuts in quickly, reaching for Yamada’s hand and pulling it back down to his chest, trailing it daringly lower. “I do...I’m just...nervous” and he hesitates for just a moment more before finishing “I’ve never done it like this before...”

Yamada’s eyes widen in surprise “You’ve never had sex?”

“Not with a guy.” Yuto clarifies. “I slept with girls in Uni but you’re the first guy I’ve ever gotten close to like this...” Yamada still looks surprised, there’s that same uncertainty though, heavier than before. “It’s not a big deal...” Yuto continues, trying to explain. “I don’t want to make a big deal of it...I just...was a little worried that I wouldn’t be any good at it...since I haven’t...that way...”

“But you want to?” Yamada asks and Yuto nods emphatically. “You’re sure?”

“Are you going to make me beg?” Yuto asks, trying to lighten the tension, it’s strange how much lighter he feels after just telling Yamada.

“Maybe not this time.” Yamada concedes, and his expression does look less tense but there’s still a cautiousness to him as he allows Yuto to trail his hand further down, past his spent erection and through the thick patch of dark hair to the crease of his thigh. 

Yuto inhales deeply as Yamada’s hand keeps moving, slipping between his legs and Yuto lets them fall open. A finger runs almost the full length of his perineum, starting just behind his balls and finishing just short of Yuto’s rim, despite the way he gasps and spreads his legs wider invitingly.

He opens his mouth to protest when the finger leaves him entirely, when Yamada shuffles back before climbing off of the bed. He keeps his eyes locked on Yuto’s as he reaches behind him, into the back pocket of his jeans and his hand returns with a couple of little silver packets which he tosses onto the bed beside Yuto. It gives Yuto a strange little thrill of excitement, knowing they were there the whole time, back in the taxi, or when he was standing in the scorching sun, playing to a small crowd. The thrill runs a little deeper when he pictures Yamada putting them there that morning, expecting that he would need them, hoping maybe.

He’s pulled back to the present with the sound of a zipper, Yamada peeling open his jeans and then pushing them down to step out of. Yuto thinks he actually squirms a little when Yamada’s hands move back to the waistband of his boxers, the anticipation pooling low in his stomach even though it’s too soon for him to get hard again.

Yamada must see the excitement there though, when his boxers land on the pile of clothes already at his feet he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, his hand wrapping around the base of his erection. He strokes slowly, just once, a promise maybe, and Yuto can’t help the way he licks his lips.

He is starting to get hard, Yuto finds, despite himself. Everything is so sensitive still, but when Yamada kneels back down on the bed, urging Yuto’s thighs apart just a little more to settle between them, he can’t help the wave of excitement rushing south, blood evidently travelling with it.

Yamada reaches to the side for one of the little packets and carefully he tears the corner before squeezing some of its contents onto his first two fingers.

It’s cold when it meets his skin, not quite _there_ yet, where Yuto is clenching clumsily for Yamada’s fingers, but it warms as Yamada rubs them, more purposefully this time, along his perineum. 

When they finally move lower, barely brushing the tight ring of muscle, Yuto jerks sharply. When it happens again he gasps, and then he mewls as one of Yamada’s fingers runs a circle around the rim and Yuto’s cock twitches, fully hard against his stomach now as he breathes “Please.” So much for not making him beg.

“If you don’t like it.” Yamada says seriously, his finger stilling but not withdrawing. “If you want to stop...just say...” 

“Ok.” Yuto nods, and then he inhales sharply as he feels it slip inside.

It doesn’t hurt, not at all, but it’s strange, and it’s strangely exciting and Yuto’s back arches as it presses further in, and then he raises his head to look at Yamada just in time to watch him leaning in.

The heat of Yamada’s mouth surrounds him again, is amplified this time by the pleasure inside and the soft vibration of Yamada’s moan around him as he clenches involuntarily around Yamada’s finger. He bobs his head slowly, mindful of how sensitive Yuto still is as he moves his finger just as slowly, sliding it in and out before adding another and already Yuto’s head is spinning. It’s not like he’s never touched himself this way, or tried to at least, because nothing he’s ever managed has felt quite like this. It might be the combination of mouth and fingers - that’s almost definitely part of it - but it might be Yamada’s skilful fingers too, dexterous as promised, playing his insides like notes on a scale until he finds the one that has Yuto crying out.

It’s so much, so much sensation and Yuto can’t remember anything feeling so good as those fingers crook just right again, another sharp burst of pleasure lancing through him. His hand moves to Yamada’s hair, urging his head back and Yamada’s low rasp of ‘You’re so hot’ is met with Yuto’s whine of ‘Please’.

Yamada places open mouthed kisses over the tops of Yuto’s thighs as he slips his fingers free, his hand reaching out for another foil packet. He tears it open without preamble and for a moment his attention is pulled down to his own lap as he fumbles around, reaches out again for the sachet he discarded earlier, and then he’s on his knees, moving up the bed again to hover over Yuto.

He’s panting slightly, muscular chest flushed and expanding with short, deep breaths as he looks down at Yuto, lust and hunger in his eyes, and guides Yuto’s legs back against his chest.

“You’re sure?” Yamada asks urgently. “You trust me?”

The words ‘I love you’ almost slip out but Yuto catches them just in time. “I trust you” he says instead, and he lets his head fall back to the pillow beneath him, back arching as Yamada finally presses inside.


End file.
